


Party of One

by Kittyhawke56



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:16:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29808294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittyhawke56/pseuds/Kittyhawke56
Summary: Adam is being Adam.
Relationships: Female Detective/Adam du Mortain
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Party of One

The Warehouse was quiet as Adam strode through the hallway, the few windows showing nothing but his reflection as he passed. Not that he bothered to look. What would have been the point? Roughly 900 years had not changed him significantly, other than slightly altering his clothing and hairstyle. At this moment, all he cared about was getting into a shower and washing off the remnants of his sparring match with Morgan. He was acutely aware of the sweat drying on his skin, making the tight fabric of his shirt stiff and itchy. 

He’d needed the distraction, though, after an evening spent pouring over old books with Selune. Having her curled on the couch next to him, within reach but never touching, sitting side by side, with the certainty that all he had to do was offer, and she would nestle herself into his side. She never pushed for more than he was willing to give, always making him come to her.

Somehow that made it harder to resist her. 

She’d made her interest known and then, just, left it there. No pushing, no propositioning, merely a quiet acceptance of whatever he was willing to give. But she took every inch of ground he gave and refused to relinquish them. He was stubborn, but she was patient. One of them was going to give in eventually, and he was growing increasingly afraid it would be him.

With a nearly inaudible growl, Adam shook his head, trying to dislodge the thoughts of Selune. The sparring had not been as effective as he had hoped. He looked up, grumbling under his breath when he realized he’d come to a stop outside her door. 

He stared at the door, noticing for the first time that she’d painted it. Flowering vines twined around one another around the edges. At the top, the vines formed a sort of frame that held a rather fanciful depiction of the moon’s phases. Both the painted moons and the flowers seemed to glow with an inner light, even in the dimly lit hallway, and Adam didn’t even try to stop himself from reaching out to touch the delicately painted petals. 

Lovely, much like the woman who had painted them.

He snatched his hand away as though burned, taking a step back when a sound caught his ear. It was soft, almost a cry, and he paused to listen intently, a frown creasing his brow.

That Selune had nightmares was no secret. How could they be when they woke her so often, driving her from her bed to seek comfort in the company of others? If she were in the clutches of imagined horrors, would it not be his responsibility to wake her? After all, he reasoned, it fell to him to make sure all those on his team were functioning well, and a night spent fleeing nightmares was never restful.

The thought was the parent to the deed, and Adam let his hand fall to the doorknob. Another sound came through the door as his fingers brushed the cool metal, this one closer to a muffled moan. 

He froze.

A gasp, another moan, then another. Adam jerked his hand away from the door handle so fast he might have pulled it entirely from the door if he had been holding onto it. Heat rushed through him along with the realization of what was happening on the other side of Selune’s door, and he reeled away face burning. 

He shouldn’t hear this. He didn’t want to.

But he did want to, wanted desperately to linger there, listening to those small, soft sounds. That part of him that had been growing restless the longer he was around Selune wanted to knock on her door, wanted to call out to her. 

That urge shook him to his core, sent him reeling back. He had to get away, had to leave _now_. He whirled, fleeing the thoughts, the throaty sounds coming from Selune. 

He wasn’t fast enough to escape the sound of his name, uttered with a breathy sigh. 

Images swam through Adam’s mind as he stumbled away, half-formed imaginings that he would not, could not permit himself to dwell on. But, for every fantasy he throttled back, two more rose up in their place. He could not allow himself to hesitate in the hallway, could not stop until there was more than a single door between them. 

If he did, nothing would prevent him from marching right back to her room and knocking. 

He wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to. To see her face when she realized he had heard his name on her lips as she pleasured herself _, to taste those lips, to lay her back against her pillows and-_

No.

No. Those thoughts would get him nowhere. _Nowhere save back there, with her, her thick dark waves of_ _hair splashed over the pillows as he lost himself in her._

He made it into his room, then into the bathroom. Shutting the door before he let himself stop moving. Adam leaned back against the door, taking deep breaths in a futile attempt to ground himself again. There was no chance of it working, though, not with her voice so fresh in his memory. Not with the sound of his name echoing in his ears. He ground his teeth, frustration mixing with the desire he felt. This should have been simple, easy, but something about Selune wore away at every carefully constructed barrier he had. She was like a gentle trickle of water to his stone wall, patient and relentless, eroding bit by unnoticeable bit until the wall toppled on its own.

Which left him here, standing in a bathroom nearly shaking with the desire to go to her and an erection that was growing increasingly uncomfortable within the confines of his pants.

Clenching his fists, Adam shoved away from the door, methodically taking off his shoes, then socks, then tee-shirt, folding them, and setting them neatly by the sink. Pants were next, and he nearly groaned with relief when he pulled them off, the length of him springing out hard and thick. He ignored his aching cock, methodically folding his pants, setting them and his underwear atop the other clothing before turning on the shower and stepping in without waiting for it to warm up.

The water felt like tiny daggers of ice where they struck his sensitive skin, and Adam tried to concentrate on the uncomfortable sensation, tried to drive out thoughts of Selune.

Selune.

_Selune astride him, body pressed against his, holding him down to the mat, a shit-eating grin spread_ _across her face. He could count the number of times she had taken him down on one hand, and that had_ _been the latest. They had been alone, and he’d discarded his shirt at some point, leaving little between_ _them but her sports bra—nearly skin against skin. She’d almost kissed him that day._

_He’d almost let her.  
_

Adam gave in.

Turning, so the water hit his back and not his face, Adam took himself in hand. Bracing one hand against the shower wall as he stroked the length of his cock. 

He didn’t have much experience to draw from, but it was easy enough to imagine what it might feel like to have her hands on him instead of his own. He knew her scent, the softness of her skin, every freckle splattered across her cheeks, so often mixed with flecks of paint. Could conjure a perfect memory of the supple strength of her body, could perfectly recall the sight of her sprawled beneath him, hazel eyes looking up at him through thick, dark lashes. 

If he stopped now, he could wrap a towel around his waist and go down and across the hall. Selune was so close. She was always so close, and all he would have to do is reach out to her. Adam clung to that idea, breaths coming in ragged staccato as he thrust into his fist, wishing, not for the first time, that it was her. 

_She’d open her door at his first knock, wearing one of those oversized tee-shirts she liked to sleep in. The_ _shirt would be thin and soft enough to cling to every curve of her, loose enough to leave much to the_ _imagination. She’d look up at him with those huge sleepy eyes, and he would finally allow himself to_ _capture her lovely full lips with his own.  
_

In his desperation to keep quiet, Adam bit down on the inside of his cheek hard enough that he tasted blood for a moment. Silently, he came. Emptying himself until there was nothing left but the despair of wanting what he could not allow himself to have. 

He slumped, head falling to thump against the wall. Closing stinging eyes, he had to swallow down the ache in his chest as he let the water wash away the evidence of this latest attack of weakness. 


End file.
